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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811458">So don't you squirm, don't you fret</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea'>Neyiea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Flirting, Kidnapping, M/M, The usual Valeyne antics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:42:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,928</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I heard a song,” Jerome says, seemingly out of the blue. “It made me think of us. It made me want to see you.”</p>
<p>“… Please don’t tell me you’ve decided on ‘our song’ without consulting me at all,” Bruce answers after a few-seconds pause to digest that particular, unexpected answer. “I feel like I should have been involved in this decision.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>So don't you squirm, don't you fret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh, me? Writing more fic because of music inspo? It's more likely than you think. ;)</p>
<p>While I'm at it, lemme just plug something...</p>
<p>https://billionairebratxmurdertwins.tumblr.com/post/624657764973772800/need-an-innapropriately-long-wayleska-or-valeyne</p>
<p>Title and lyrics from The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid, which can be found on the Valeyne playlist that owns my whole entire soul.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every path in life that I have taken has somehow led me to this moment, Bruce thinks as he tests the bonds behind his back. It’s just rope coiled around his wrists, which seems a little more rustic than Jerome’s usual approach to restraints, not that Bruce is complaining. He’s not very good at lock picking himself out of handcuffs with his hands behind his back yet, but cutting through something with the little pocket knife that he’d taken to concealing in the sleeve of his coat at all times? That was part of his standard Sunday morning routine of practicing how to free himself in case of kidnapping.  </p>
<p>Every path has seemingly led him here, but at least he is better prepared for it than the vast majority of other Gotham citizens. Or anyone else, period. </p>
<p>His fingers slip up into his sleeve.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” Bruce states, as casual as he is able, as he carefully begins to draw out the knife. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share why you felt the urge to kidnap me and tie me up in a room alone with you?”</p>
<p>Being alone with Jerome is not something that anyone could really prepare themselves for, no matter how many times they might try to mentally go through the possibility. Even Bruce, who’d felt his usual level of ‘great, this again, better think fast to stay alive’ back when there were still Maniax around to push him into the chair and bind his hands had felt a flicker of something like unease when they’d been dismissed from the room.</p>
<p>“Do I really need a reason to see you?” Jerome’s back is turned. He’s fiddling with something metal on a metal tray, and Bruce’s mind seems eager to conjure up a whole slew of weapons that he could possibly be looking over. </p>
<p>“I would appreciate one, if that matters to you at all.” Though he highly suspects that it doesn’t.</p>
<p>Jerome tosses a look over his shoulder, Bruce looks back at him coolly. </p>
<p>Jerome’s smile twitches wider.</p>
<p>Bruce folds open the knife behind his back and gets to work cutting his bonds. </p>
<p>“I heard a song,” Jerome says, seemingly out of the blue. “It made me think of us. It made me want to see you.”</p>
<p>“… Please don’t tell me you’ve decided on ‘our song’ without consulting me at all,” Bruce answers after a few-seconds pause to digest that particular, unexpected answer. “I feel like I should have been involved in this decision.” </p>
<p>“Don’t worry, Brucie,” Jerome assures him, or at least attempts to, possibly. He turns around fully and he’s holding—not a knife or a gun or even a lighter with a canister of hairspray. He waves the caliper in Bruce’s direction. “I burned it to a CD for you.”</p>
<p>Bruce’s mind stutters.</p>
<p>“A CD?” He repeats, too bewildered to sound flat. His hands even pause in their task for a moment. “What decade are you living in?”</p>
<p>“Kids these days, no respect for older technology.” Jerome turns back and puts the caliper down, moving over to an ancient hulk of a radio that has, yes, a CD player. He takes a CD case from the top and plucks out the disk inside, showing the red sharpie that he’d written along the top before sliding it into the player.</p>
<p>J &amp; B: Greatest Hits</p>
<p>Bruce is both curious and apprehensive about what Jerome could have possibly listened to that might have reminded him of them. But, on the bright side, the first loop of rope is beginning to fray under the sharp pressure of his knife. Usually Jerome is far more vigilant than this when it comes to making sure Bruce can’t escape, but Bruce won’t look this gift horse in the mouth.</p>
<p>“I would have made you a mix-tape, but you can’t find cassettes anywhere these days,” Jerome grumbles before he cranks up the volume. </p>
<p>
  <i>Hold still, my sweet…</i>
</p>
<p>Bruce’s fingers continue to diligently work behind his back, but he does cock his head to the side as an obvious sign that he’s listening to whatever music Jerome has decided to use as a soundtrack in an attempt to unnerve him. He manages to listen to several verses before raising his eyebrows pointedly.</p>
<p>“You won’t make an incision until I’m ‘nice and numb’? Really?” His tone is dry as dust, and Jerome laughs at him before stepping forward to ruffle his hair. </p>
<p>
  <i>This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat.</i><br/>
<i>And bring you closer to me.</i>
</p>
<p>“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret. I’m not going to hurt you yet,” Jerome croons along, winking cheekily, before turning his back.</p>
<p>
  <i>I just feel the need to be getting. A little of you, a lot of blood-letting. I know the sensation you’re probably dreading. But cutting you up will be so refreshing for me.</i>
</p>
<p>“I’m sure it would be,” Bruce mutters, and he hears Jerome laugh again. When he turns back he has, not unexpectedly, a knife. Maybe the somewhat cheery tone of the music should make Bruce feel unnerved, but as Jerome saunters up to him, still singing along under his breath, he finds himself feeling charmed despite himself and despite the dreadful lyrics.</p>
<p>
  <i>Aren’t your toenails cute?</i><br/>
<i>And red is such a lovely colour on you.</i><br/>
<i>But you won’t be needing those.</i>
</p>
<p>“When you’ve got no knees. Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries. So hold still while I remove them.”</p>
<p>Bruce opens his mouth to retort, but the words catch in his throat when Jerome’s finger settles over his lips.</p>
<p>“Oh, and don’t fight back,” Jerome sings, though the look on his face seems to be urging for the opposite. His finger taps against Bruce’s lips three times, overtly playful. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point with that.”</p>
<p>“Do you honestly think I’d just sit here though it?” Bruce asks incredulously over the next lyrics and Jerome chuckles, delighted. Behind Bruce’s back the rope is almost cut. </p>
<p>
  <i>This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh.</i><br/>
<i>This’ll be absolutely whee.</i><br/>
<i>This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat.</i><br/>
<i>And bring you closer to me.</i>
</p>
<p>Jerome settles a hand on his shoulder and Bruce goes still as Jerome slowly walks behind him, fingers trailing from one shoulder, across his neck, to the other. He doesn’t appear to look down at Bruce’s almost-free hands, a small blessing, but as he leans over Bruce from behind he does rest the knife against Bruce’s neck in a way that is reminiscent of a few of their most hair-raising moments. </p>
<p>Ah, memories. </p>
<p>“I’ve got no angel to keep me in line,” Jerome sing-songs directly into Bruce’s ear, lips brushing against him in a way that makes Bruce have to hold back a shiver. “So I’m taking your narrative, and I’m making it mine.”</p>
<p>The rope keeping Bruce’s wrists bound snaps. He kicks himself backward, the back of the chair ramming into Jerome and putting an end to his singing. The knife drops. Jerome catches himself. Bruce springs up and turns, knocking the chair out of the way. Jerome punches wildly, a huge grin on his face. Bruce ducks, and even though he shouldn’t be he finds himself smiling back, as if in answer to Jerome’s obvious elation. </p>
<p>“If you’re so eager for a little piece of me as a keepsake.” He twists, elbows Jerome in the ribs, gets kneed in the side, barely manages to dart out of the way of Jerome’s eagerly grasping hands. “All you have to do is ask. I’d rather give you something than let you take it from me yourself.” </p>
<p>“You’re just saying that,” Jerome calls, pushing his wild hair out of his eyes before happily throwing himself back into the fight. “I can tell you don’t mean it.”</p>
<p>“I absolutely mean it,” Bruce intones dryly, ducking out of the way of Jerome’s punches before retaliating with one of his own, catching him across the jaw. Bruce can see a shoulder holster underneath Jerome’s jacket and he is positive that it isn’t empty, which means…</p>
<p>Well, it means something. Jerome has an easy way to end this fight at his fingertips, but he’s choosing this instead. </p>
<p>Bruce drops to the floor to sweep Jerome’s feet out from under him and once Jerome is laid out flat on his back Bruce settles over top of him and fists his hands into Jerome’s jacket. Jerome doesn’t even try to throw him off. Bruce wonders if Jerome had planned it this way; the rope instead of handcuffs, not checking Bruce over for anything that might help him get loose, not being nearly as vigilant as usual when it came to ensuring Bruce’s continued restraint, not using the gun he obviously has on him. </p>
<p>He settles his weight fully on Jerome, feeling kind of fond as the song begins to fade out.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to hurt you yet, huh?” He cocks an eyebrow.</p>
<p>Jerome grins up at him, eyes bright, cheeks pink from exertion. </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t hurt you in a way you didn’t like,” Jerome tells him, somewhat breathless. His hands settle calmly over Bruce’s, fingers gently stroking along his knuckles. He’d definitely planned for it to end like this, and Bruce feels pretty confident that he could make a guess as to why. “I could, let’s not forget just who I am, but I wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>“How sweet,” Bruce drawls, and he supposes he sort of means it. The room is silent but for them. “Did you burn me a CD with a single song on it?”</p>
<p>“One song not good enough for you?” </p>
<p>“No, but when I saw you titled it Greatest Hits I had assumed there would be more than one.”</p>
<p>“Gimme a few days to find some more songs and I’ll burn you another one.”</p>
<p>Bruce snorts, feeling his smile widen as he rolls his eyes. He lets go of Jerome’s jacket and tugs the pocket square out of the breast pocket, unfolding it on Jerome’s chest. Jerome watches him with a bemused expression, not doing anything to hinder his movements. Then Bruce pulls out his little knife, and below him Jerome goes very still. When Bruce looks down at him Jerome’s eyes are brighter and his cheeks are pinker than before. </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Jerome mumbles, eyes zeroed in on the small knife in Bruce’s hand. “Just having some kind of feeling of déjà vu, I think, except better.”</p>
<p>Ah, memories. The last time Bruce had Jerome pinned down like this he was a lot angrier and a lot more violent, with a much larger sharp object in his grasp ready to be used for a much more sinister purpose. </p>
<p>“I’m not going to hurt you yet, either.” Bruce tells him, pinching one of his longer locks of hair between his fingers and dragging the knife through the strands, cutting off a few inches. He sets it onto the center of the pocket square and folds it up, gently tucking it back into Jerome’s jacket. “Next time, if you don’t kidnap me first, I’ll give you something nicer to remember me by.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?” Jerome sounds kind of dazed, one of his hands moves to tenderly rest over his breast pocket as if something truly wondrous has been hidden away inside of it. “I’ll take it into consideration, then.” </p>
<p>Bruce laughs softly, once. He laughs again, under his breath, heart racing behind his ribs, at the awestruck look that crosses Jerome’s face at the sound.  </p>
<p>“You do that, Jerome.”</p>
<p>Bruce takes the CD before he leaves.</p>
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